


Torque

by pippiblondestocking



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippiblondestocking/pseuds/pippiblondestocking
Summary: Gisla confronts Rollo to talk about his past and Rollo wants to talk about the future.Set after Season 4, Episode 17: The Great Army.
Relationships: Gisla/Rollo (Vikings)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Torque

Rollo sat behind his desk, blankly looking over a map of the Kingdom of the East Franks. Louis the German was sending a regiment of troops south to Byzantium by way east of a small city called Kyiv. Rollo had once heard of this place in passing from another group of Vikings as they passed through Kattegat. _What could Louis possibly want from the Rus?_ Rollo wondered.

The door opened and his wife Gisla strode in, dressed today in another festive shade of black. A royal guard marched in after her.

“Please leave us,” Gisla said graciously, summarily dismissing the guard.

_I don’t know why she’s bothering to send him out_ , Rollo thought to himself, _everyone in Paris knows that she’s furious with me. They probably know we’re sleeping in separate rooms and they’ve heard the whispers that her door is guarded by night. It’s all true, why pretend otherwise?_

“Good morning, wife—“ Rollo began, only to be cut off by Gisla. He stood up from behind the great desk and began to move toward his wife.

“I want to talk to you,” Gisla said, “stay behind the desk. I can’t stand the sight of you.”

Rollo stopped and held his elbows behind his back.

“Of course, wife. Where are the children?” he asked. Even though he’d been raised a Viking in a small cozy farmhouse with his brother and parents, Rollo still wasn’t comfortable fighting within earshot of his children. Gisla had no such qualms.

“The children are out in the gardens with the nurse, getting some fresh air before the snow comes in,” Gisla replied. The snow was sure to move in before Yuletide, and every winter Gisla became dreadfully worried that the children wouldn’t get enough sunlight because they didn’t play outside as often. Rollo would suggest that she simply let the children run about outside in the snow and breathe in the cold air, and Gisla wouldn’t entertain it. Rollo would laugh and tell her that their children were still half Northman, and that they could withstand a little winter and a little snow. In fact, it would do them some good. He never won this argument outright, but she never made him come in with the children when he took them out to sled and build snowmen and snow forts and throw snowballs. _They have too much energy, my wife, let them play Viking_ , he’d say to her at night as they drifted off to sleep. She would curse him under her breath and insist that her babies weren’t barbarians, but she never brought the children inside.

“Rollo, the courtesans are talking, they know we haven’t shared a bed since you returned from Cordoba,” she said quietly, letting out a deep sigh of disappointment. It was true – they hadn’t shared a marital bed since Rollo had returned home from his trip to the Mediterranean with Bjorn last spring. It was now nearly winter. He missed the company and pleasure of his wife.

“I know,” he replied quietly. “What can I say to them? It’s no secret.” His wife came closer to his desk, clutching her rosary in her right hand, and his Viking torque in the left.

“Tell me why you went, Rollo,” Gisla asked, her voice low and throaty in a rasp. Rollo sighed. They had been over this so many times in the past, and he didn’t see what good it would do to say it again. But if he didn’t answer, Gisla would just keep asking him until Rollo told her.

“Because I had to, wife. I needed to hear the thunder, to feel the sun on my chest, to smell the sea—“ Rollo said, “—I wasn’t born to be the king, like you – I was born to be a farmer, I was born to go to war. I wasn’t born to rule a vast Christian kingdom.”

“Those are excuses, Rollo. Were you born to rape and pillage and burn, simply because you’re a Northman?” Gisla spat, walking closer. Even though Rollo was at least a head taller than his wife, he was still intimidated by her confidence and sheer willpower. _Gisla would have made for a fine Shieldmaiden_ , he always thought in these moments where her small stature betrayed her fierce spirit.

“No, I wasn’t,” Rollo said, never breaking eye contact. “I have already apologized for the ways of my past, and I continue to confess my sins to the Lord, our Father, and I will atone for those sins until my last breath gives out.”

“Oh, when you reach Valhalla, Rollo?” she retorted. “When you can be reunited with your brothers and lovers?” Gisla’s eyes flashed with rage as she clutched her rosary.

“NO!” Rollo shouted as he slammed his fist on the desk, causing Gisla to jump back. Rollo leaned heaving on the desk on his elbows, running his hands through his hair.

“Gisla, I told you that I renounced my Northman faith when I agreed to marry you. That is the day I turned my back on my brother and dead lovers and my past. That is the day the gods barred my entrance to Valhalla, and that is the day I had to ask Jesus Christ for his forgiveness and strength. What kind of faith doesn’t believe in redemption? Why would I want to belong to a people who don’t believe that I am capable and deserving of better things? A people who call me Rollo the Rapist?” Rollo hissed dangerously.

“Are you Rollo the Rapist?” Gisla wept, shaking his Viking torque. “How do I know you’ve really changed?”

“I was,” Rollo whispered, tears falling freely from his eyes. “I’m not that man anymore. I took a vow to honor and protect you. I took a vow that I would never betray you, I would never betray Paris. I have never broken that vow.”

Gisla stepped forward, her tears falling on the floor. “And how do I know you aren’t this monster anymore, Rollo?” she begged, shaking his torque in her hand. “How do I know you haven’t simply been hiding his pelt in your closet, and wearing it when I’m not looking?”

“I’m not him anymore, Gisla! And I'm sorry!” Rollo shouted, burying his head in his hands. “That Rollo is long gone, dead in Kattegat. I am Rollo, Duke of Normandy, your faithful husband, and devoted father to our children.”

Gisla stepped forward to his desk, the sunlight catching in her hair, creating a halo. She bent her face down to his, dangling the torque next to his cheek.

“And on that trip to the Mediterranean, Rollo, were you still a man of the Christian faith?” Gisla growled.

“Gisla, I swear on the lives of our children that I didn’t lay a hand on a woman in Cordoba, I swear on our marriage bed, I swear on our vows, I swear on that torque,” Rollo sobbed.

She traced his jawline with her fingers. “Do you promise? You didn’t rape anyone?”

Rollo sighed under her soft fingers; he’d so missed her touch. “Gisla, I didn’t rape anyone in the harem. The other men did. I was too much of a coward to stop them. I should have. I have been asking God for his forgiveness since we got back on the ship to Paris.”

Gisla laughed cruelly. “So you were just what, chaperoning rape?”

Rollo cried more freely now. “Gisla, my love, my wife, I knew it was wrong, I knew I should not have let them do it. I was afraid that they would kill me and leave me for dead, I was afraid that they would turn on me, I was afraid they would come after you.”

Gisla clutched his face between her hands and pressed her nose to his. “And this is the truth, Rollo? You, the great Duke of Normandy, the Savior of Paris, afraid of your former brothers in arms?”

He pressed his hands against hers and breathed in the smell of her hair and perfume. “Yes, my wife, you don’t know them, they are terrifying. I should have stopped them and I didn’t. I will carry this cross with me into the afterlife.”

“And you let them? You let Bjorn and Hvisterk, your nephews – you let them lose their souls? Let them act like wild animals? How dare you!” she choked out, crushing his hands in hers.

“Not Bjorn. Hvitserk. I… couldn’t stop them,” Rollo said under his breath. “You don’t understand… there was nothing to be done. They are like wild animals – you can’t reason with them…”

“No, I’ll never understand you pagans!” Gisla snapped, pounding her fists on his chest. “What would Ragnar have done?”

Rollo chuckled sadly. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not Ragnar. These are my sins, and I must pay for them. I shouldn’t have let it happen, and I did. And I’m sorry. I will never forgive myself for what happened to those girls. I am so sorry. I might burn in hell for it, Gisla.”

Gisla pulled him closer to her, laying the torque on the desk. “And this is the truth?”

Rollo swallowed his pride. All of the gods in Valhalla would be laughing at him right now, if he still believed in them. “Gisla, my wife, my love. I haven’t so much as thought about another woman since the moment I laid eyes on you on the ramparts of Paris. I will be faithful to you until my soul leaves my body, and we will be reunited in heaven.”

Gisla cracked, sinking into his arms. “Do you swear it?” she whispered. “Do you swear on the lives of our children?”

“Yes, Gisla, I swear it,” Rollo replied, clasping her small hands in his. “I do not ask for your forgiveness, sweet wife. I have to pray to the Lord.”

Gisla shook her head. “You don’t want my forgiveness?”

“I have never betrayed our marriage vows, I do not need your forgiveness. This is between me and God, Gisla.”

His wife thought about this for a moment. “You have never betrayed me, Rollo. If you are so happy here with me, then why did you need to go with them?” she said.

“I lived a life before I met you, my wife. But I have been a faithful Christian husband since the day my brothers returned to the North and left my in Paris with my new life. They left me – I didn’t leave them. It leaves a void in my soul, but you have filled my heart and given me everything I have ever wanted,” Rollo said, kissing the salty tears from her cheeks. “My fate is here with you, Gisla. I never understood why they had to leave me for me to find you, but you make me a better man, a better Christian, a better husband, a better father, a better king.”

“They had to leave you to show you why you needed to leave them,” Gisla pondered. “Why do you want to be with people who don’t want you? Do you hate them?”

“A little bit,” Rollo answered, “but you always love the people who make you the way you are. I’ll never forget who I was. I’ll never forget that you made me the man I’m supposed to be. If the Northman hadn’t left me behind as a spoil of war, I’d never have become the Duke of Normandy, and I wouldn’t be a father to our three beautiful children. Why do you want to be with such a tortured soul, caught between two worlds?”

“Because my love,” Gisla whispered seriously, “we’re building a new world, and I have to have you in it. You’re mine now. I can’t bear the thought of sharing you with anyone else. I don’t even like to entertain the idea that you ever belonged to someone else, or that you wanted to be with someone else – “

“Not since I found you, Gisla. I cannot change the past but I control my future. You are my present,” Rollo interrupted her.

Gisla gazed at him as though she were peering into the depths of his depraved soul. “And you’re never going to leave us?”

“No – I will always come back, I will never leave you,” he declared softly, pushing a stray hair behind her ear.

“Always?”

“My heart and home is here with you in Paris. If they chose to join me, they must leave Kattegat and settle in Francia. I gave them that choice, they may do with it what they like. They might be pagans, but they still have free will.”

Gisla stiffened against his chest again. “And why would you ever need to leave me again, husband?”

“Gisla, they are still my family and I still have family matters of the heart. If I have to go to Kattegat to deal with them, I will, but I will always come back to our bed and our family. I will never stray from you. I need you to be a better man. Without you, I am weak.” He kissed her lips very softly. “I will never leave you because I can’t survive without you.” Big wet tears rolled out from eyes and wet their lips.

“And you won’t go back to Cordoba?” she wept. He shook his hand.

“My God, I hope not… too many bad memories there. But I am the Duke, and I need to rule. They need to see me rule. If they don’t, they will think I am weak and that Normandy is weak, like we have something to hide if they can’t see me. And if I need to travel to other parts of our empire, you’ll have to let me. If I need to return to Kattegat to do business with the Vikings there, you must trust me. If our family is going to be successful, we cannot anger our allies nor tempt our foes. I have to keep them happy in order to protect you and the children. And I have to do what’s right by Francia,” Rollo said.

“Not what’s right by the Northmen?” Gisla asked, twirling the torque in her hand, a twinkle in her eye.

“Our children shall inherit what’s left of my brother’s empire,” Rollo vowed, bending down on one knee before his wife. “Our children will go on to do many great things, despite the sin’s of their father. Normandy will go down in history – the house Gisla and Rollo built.”

Gisla slipped the torque into the pocket of her dress and glanced at the map of East Francia. “Very well.” The hearth fire behind the desk caught the light in her eyes for a moment, and Rollo remembered the first time he saw her on the walls of Paris. The fires of the battle his people started burning around her and the fire of her love for Paris started dancing in her belly, making their way up to her eyes. He remembered why he fell in love with her.

Rollo wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her soft hair. “May I sleep with you tonight?” he murmured.

“Of course, husband,” Gisla responded silkily. “Shall we bring the children in for dinner, and then discuss our plans for Louis to the east? They’re going to catch cold.”

Rollo raised an eyebrow. “The children, or the Germans?”

Gisla raised herself up on her tiptoes to give Rollo a deep kiss, the kind that used to make him blush because he never thought Frankish women could be so forward.

“Both,” she said with a wink as she grabbed his hand and opened the door to the hall.

The servants scattered and the guards pretended to not notice the reconciliation of the duke and his princess. Rollo hoped they were listening so they would know the truth about their adopted king.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I’ve been stuck in lockdown just like everyone else, and I suppose I’ve finally lost my damn mind because the power of Christ compelled me to write some fan fiction to shut my brain up. I’m so angry at what Michael Hirst did to our beautiful Rollo in Season 4B; he just completely chucked out all of Rollo’s character growth and development and keeps BLOWING HOLES in our beautiful ship. So, I guess this is me, trying to imagine the scenes that Hirst deliberately left out because he hates women and likes burning perfectly nice things.
> 
> Ehhh as I see it, this is like three chapters now, could be four or five, depending on how terrible Season 6B goes. Barf.


End file.
